Fortune Tellers and Assassination Attempts
by KYTIVAFAN
Summary: How does a fortune teller and an assassination attempt figure into a trip to Paris? A tag to Jetlag


Fortune Tellers and Assassination Attempts

Tony looked over at his sleeping partner, he didn't know how she did it – he could never sleep on airplanes and this one had a screaming baby three rows back; but still she slept on – like she had not a care in the world, which he knew was far from the truth. She was battling demons from the desert, but anyone from the outside looking in would never know that – she was the picture of peace.

He settled deeper into his seat closing his eyes trying in vain to find that elusive comfortable position, the one that would finally allow him to drift off, but he knew it was useless, there would be no respite from his weariness. His mind began to wonder to the mission –it was easy enough- pick up a witness from the US Embassy and escort her back to NCIS headquarters – any probie could have done it, but he wasn't complaining – he would get to spend time with Ziva outside of the office and he was going to Paris – all in all not a bad little boondoggle.

Paris, France – he had never been there – always wanted to though, so he was looking forward to it. As he was thinking about what he and Ziva could do in Paris – dinner and sightseeing; his mind brought forth a long buried memory from his college days and he chuckled softly. He and some of his buddies had gone to Cancun, Mexico for spring break – in between drinking and picking up coeds, they somehow found themselves at a fortune teller's booth and being slightly drunk Tony had his fortune told.

The old Mayan priestess (or so the sign said) looked at his palm and told his future: he would have a long career helping people, marry a woman born in France and die an old man peacefully in his sleep surrounded by loved ones. Tony and his friends scoffed – she could not have been more wrong – he was destined for a career in professional basketball and everyone knew he was commitment phobic – so no marriage for him - although he did like the sound of a long life. He and his friends enjoyed a good laugh and never spoke of it again.

Years later, he had to admit that she was right about the career helping people, he considered his career in law enforcement and with NCIS as public service, he was still wary of commitment so he didn't see a French wife in his future and he doubted very seriously that he would live to a ripe old age –not with his chosen career.

Once, when he was involved with Jeanne, he thought about the marrying someone from France thing – but a conversation about a weekend trip to New York City revealed that she was actually born in the Big Apple - and that was that. At the time, he was surprised at the relief he felt at that little revelation.

Now, that he was actually going to France – the possibility that he might meet his future wife tickled his fancy – he didn't really believe it – but it would be fun to look at all the French women they encountered. He smiled to himself daydreaming about sidewalk cafes and hot French waitresses.

The captain announcing their landing in Paris woke him from a deep slumber – huh – he didn't even realize that he had fallen asleep. As he was discreetly wiping the drool from his chin he looked over at Ziva and saw her wide awake and looking chipper and refreshed; "Nice nap Tony?" she asked smirking – he knew she had seen the drool.

"Yes, Zee-Vah. Very nice" he replied as they stood and stretched while reaching into the overhead compartments for their carry-ons. "Ah, Paris, we are going to have so much fun" smiled Tony.

"We hardly have any time for fun Tony, our return flight is at 11:00 a.m. tomorrow morning" replied Ziva

"Spoil Sport" he whispered as an attractive French speaking woman squeezed by him in the narrow aisle. He heard Ziva snort when she caught him watching the woman walk away.

Carrying a US federal law enforcement badge had its perks even overseas – they were allowed to jump in front of the queue for clearing customs.

Tony smiled at the man who asked for his passport "Welcome to France Agent DiNozzo. I hope you enjoy your visit." the man said as he stamped the entry into his passport. "Merci" replied Tony, pleased with his French pronunciation. He would never admit it, but he had practiced a few words and phrases in the days leading up to the trip.

He stepped aside while Ziva smiled and handed her passport to the customs agent. "Welcome home Agent David. Enjoy your stay."

"Merci" replied Ziva as she retrieved her passport and picked up her bag.

"What was that all about?" asked Tony as they walked away.

"What?" questioned Ziva

"That." He said pointing back to the customs desk "He said welcome _home_ Agent David"

"And?" Ziva looked at him clearly puzzled

"You don't live in France. This is not your home. Why did he say welcome _home_ Agent David?"

"Oh" said Ziva waving her hand in front of her face "He is probley referring to the fact that my passport lists my birth country as France".

Tony felt his heart skip a beat – he actually felt it. "You were born in Israel" He stated matter of factly.

"Actually, Tony, I was born in Lyon, France. There was an assassination attempt on my father's life, so he sent my mother to her relatives in Lyon for my birth. I still have family living there. It in no way affects my US citizenship or my status with NCIS -if that is what you are worried about."

Tony's heart was still beating wildly but he replied nonchalantly "No, not worried, merely curious"

Ziva shrugged her shoulder, smiled and continued walking towards the exit while Tony stared after her.

"That Mayan priestess just might have gotten it right after all" he murmured to himself as he picked up his dropped bag and followed her out of the terminal.


End file.
